“What would be the best way to impress a girl in your humble opinion?” Blake asks, and I stay silent for a few seconds. I want to tell him it’s knowing the details that matter, but after remembering my favorite color is purple, I decide not to.
I shrug, pretending to think harder than I need to.“Not showing up uninvited and making fun of her slippers would be a good start.”
Blake grins.“Those slippers are unforgettable. I stand by my strategy.”
“My point exactly,” I reply, reaching for the remote, looking for the music app.“If you really wanted to impress a girl, you’d… I don’t know. You’d listen to her.”
“I listen to you,” he says immediately.
“That doesn’t count. You’re collecting trivia.”
“Purple isn’t trivia,” Blake says, softer now.“Neither is music. Neither are bunnies.”
I look at him, properly this time, and my chest does something inconvenient and annoying.
“You’re still my brother’s best friend,” I remind him again, quieter than before.
“And you’re still avoiding the question,” he replies, leaning back like he has all the patience in the world.
I sigh.“Fine. If someone wanted to impress me… they’d be honest. They wouldn’t turn everything into a joke.” I hesitate, then add,“and they wouldn’t make things complicated. They would make me feel safe.”
Blake watches me a second longer than necessary.
“I am being honest,” he says.
My fingers tighten slightly around the remote.“Any requests?” I ask while I open the app and look for my playlist.
“Play me your favorites,” Blake responds, and I can’t help myself. I put on my favorite playlists and set them to shuffle. It starts with an Ella Langley song, and I can’t help but smile. “I love her music,” Blake says, surprisingly.
“Do you really?” I ask half in shock, and he nods. Something in me tells me he is actively trying to impress me still, and a bigger part of me wants to believe it’s true.
“I’ve always wanted to see her play,” Blake goes on, and I can’t help but warm up a little.
“I have seen her a bunch of times. She is incredible. You really should see her,” I suggest, and he smiles. “What are some of your favorite artists?” I ask.
Blake thinks about it for a second and then takes a deep breath. “I really like the classics. I like Elton John, R.E.M., but also Tim McGraw,” he goes on, and I nod along.
“Not bad for an ice hockey player,” I joke.
“Not bad for a figure skater either,” Blake winks back, and I can’t help but feel slightly offended.
“What is your opinion on figure skaters?” I ask sassily.
Blake leans back against the couch like he’s considering the question seriously. I see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It tells me he already has an answer.
“I think,” he says slowly, “figure skaters are terrifying.”
I narrow my eyes. “Terrifying.”
“Yeah,” he nods. “Graceful, elegant, smiling like everything’s easy while doing something that would absolutely kill a normal person. It’s suspicious.”
“That’s not an insult,” I point out.
“I wasn’t insulting you.”
“Youwereimplying we’re secretly unhinged.”
“I was implying you’re impressive,” he corrects, watching me carefully. “There’s a difference.”
